


"Where The Fuck Are My Airpods?" — It's Not A Crackhouse, It's A Crackhome

by AArctuurus_HHellion



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: A Shit Ton Of Plants, Amami Drives A Van, BitchesBeDevious™, Burger King Employee Hajime, Cats Are Here, Clothes?, Don't Fuck Grapefruit, Don't Fuck The Grill, Don't Fuck The Pool Vacuum, Fluffy, It'll Get Sexy Sometime I Hope, Izuru Has A Smartcar, Kokichi Wants Mcdonalds, Multi, No Drugs Permitted, No Swearing Allowed, Possible angst somewhere, Raini Rodriguez And Crying, Sexual Content, Shitty Roomates AU, Spirit Airlines is here?, Splenda?, Stop Slapping The Meatloaf, Tiny Pool And Lanai Out Back, Weed?, Wooden spoons, gay?, hot?, tiny house, woah. robots have genitals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-19 11:49:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19973575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AArctuurus_HHellion/pseuds/AArctuurus_HHellion
Summary: hey! what happens when you put a bunch of friggin' nerds in a tiny house? ah, you see, ladies and menfolk, women, people, and gents. all dear great people of true common sense, you know what you know and you like what you like; per se singing a song, or riding a bike—-you know what? i'm gonna get to the point. this is crackheadery between a bunch of friends. goodnight, please enjoy.





	1. pizza hut?

rantaro let the brand new refrigerator door slam shut.

that probably wasnt a good sound to echo throughout the home. it's about three AM and people are attempting to get some shut-eye.

ever since the bunch of friends moved into an el cheapo tiny home in a luxury neighborhood, there weren't a rich amount of upsides. the only major upside to the home was the brand new, virgin appliances. 

rantaro had grabbed a rather lithe, flimsy paper plate with a half-ingested slice of pizza on it from the fridge. just plain dominos, cheese pizza. dominos? pizza hut? caesars? idunno. nothing _too_ special.

special? what are you talking about!? this is some _gourmet_ shit right here! and its only a whole  day old ! it still probably even tastes like food!

a low smile crept onto rantaro's face at the fact  kiibo had popped into his head at the sight of the pizza.. 

he ambled to the microwave, delicately pressing three and five. rantaro slid the paper plate into the microwave, standing there. loitering. waiting.

_oh._ well, he heard somebody peeing somewhere in the house. thats... cool?

he was well aware pizza and kiibo werent the best combination, considering the robo-dude didn't particularly associate pizza with the  best, utmost _happiest_ times, but.. 

rantarou had smiled earlier due to the fact he was glad he could remember that oh, so miniscule fact. geez, what _did_ he even remember nowadays? 

the lettucehead's attention snapped back into reality once he had heard the shrill, mating call beep of the microwave.  shit.. it was loud. fuck. if somebody around here wakes up, then oh well. rantaro was usually the _master_ at taking food out of the microwave at the literal last second. 

well, at least he had titled himself the master of that. 

well, anyways, he took his pizza and headed back to his bedroom, where kiibo lay dead asleep, charging and whatnot. he slipped into the bed with graceful bed-potato technique, gently placing the paper plate on the puffy, blue and cream striped comforter. 

he had lopped his respective part of the covers over his lap, before slipping his thumbs underneath the elastic waistband of his undies and slipping them off of his body. amami flung them to only god knows where in the room, before reclining back and taking a glance at kiibo.

do robots dream? what do they dream  about? is.. is charging asleep but for robots? 

oh come on, rantaro, lets get back to watching horror movies, eating pizza, and pretending to not have a sexual thought whenever one comes into our head. 

he proceeded to lift the voice-remote near his lips and whisper "paranormal witness" into the wrong end, in a frustrated manner. 


	2. wooden spoons are great

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mm. sunshine words only

kokichi was playing minecraft in the living room, his sad little laptop balancing on his legs. mister izuru kamukura was looming over kokichi's shoulder, one of his thin  eyebrows raised. some front lengths of his long, jet black hair was cascading over the couch. 

did... kokichi just.. actually not notice him there, or did he not care enough to acknowledge him with at least a casual "hello"? 

kokichi was in the uh.. minecraft underworld, building up to something. whatever he was doing was done with strategy and mild patience, before—ah. 

he fell. 

you could see the look of panic on his face almost immediately. it was like he had just been dunked underneath the dark and cloudy abyssimal ocean surface, nothing but freezing cold surrounding him. 

that was a bad and rather ominous analogy, but you know.

the screen had lit up a shade of pumpkin orange, while kokichi was rapidly pressing keys. 

damn, he must _really_ be passionate about not losing his shit.

izuru had backed up a bit, watching kokichi begin to hyperventilate and struggle to get above the surface in desperation. the little rat boy on the couch began mumbling things like a crack addict, thrashing when a grey box had popped up on his screen.

his little minecraft character had died, and kokichi howled "FUCK," in frustration.

"Rantaro is gonna getcha, little rat man," Izuru chirped out. kamukura placed a hand on his hip. he was _positive_ he already heard frantic footsteps rushing down the hall. 

kokichi had began panicking, too, after realizing his crucial error regarding his potty mouth. " _shit_ ," ouma muttered under his breath while he was still alive. 

amami, who was half naked and already wielding a wooden spoon, had came to a full halt once he had kokichi in his sights. he locked eyes with the young man who he had supposedly "adopted", thus referring to kokichi commonly as "his son", before hurling himself over the couch with the spoon in hand.

kokichi screamed like a little girl, lurching away while rantaro elicited an enraged, inhuman screech. as rantaro recovered from landing smack dab onto the rug infront of the sofa. standing finally, he towered over kokichi. 

izuru happened to be having the time of his life—a mild to moderate smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched. rare. 

maybe he liked the utter chaos and crackheadery that surged through the home on usually a daily basis. 

fuyuhiko had finally made an appearance, trudging to the kitchen and setting up a pot of coffee. he looked dead, yet he looked to the 'father' and 'son' wrestling in the living room seemed to pique his interest. though, not enough to intervene and stop them.

rantaro had kokichi screaming, yelping and pinned to the floor, while he was beating the shorter man with the wooden spoon and straddling his midsection. 

"WE USE SUNSHINE WORDS IN THIS HOUSE, DON'T WE, KOKICHI? WE USE SUNSHINE WORDS. POTTY LANGUAGE IS FOR ADULTS, YOU LITTLE NONCE,"

kokichi cried out, struggling to buck rantaro off; struggling to defend himself in general. 

"DAD, A-AMAMI, I WON'T SWE-SWEAR AGAIN, JU-JUST GET OFF OF M-ME-—" kokichi bellowed.

rantaro finally complied to oumas demands, crawling off. however, he seemed to pop off and cuss out kokichi, lecturing him while waving the wooden spoon around like it was a color-guard flag; or something. 

izuru cackled.

kokichi had walked away halfway through the lecture with tears in his eyes. he was probably off to find a passive-agressive emotional support harukawa, or a cat. ah, he took his laptop with him too. 

did we mention theres a shit 'tonna cats here? like, we have _alot_. not alot, but four or sumn'. we have a dog runnin' around here, too. his name is B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hear me out, this is one of many fuckin spoon beatings. use good language or face the consequences.

**Author's Note:**

> theres more. don't worry. for now, that is. 
> 
> if proper grammar, spelling and punctuation is your kink, you have come to the right place! so.. feel free to stick around. the writing is mediocre, you could say.


End file.
